


Heart to Heart

by tqpannie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Erotica, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-11
Updated: 2006-08-11
Packaged: 2018-10-26 06:26:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10781406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tqpannie/pseuds/tqpannie
Summary: A night in Hogsmeade--changes Ron maybe forever. Will guilt consume him or can Hermione break down his walls and make him whole again.





	Heart to Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

Ron frantically pushed his way through the screaming throng of students running towards Hogwarts. Where was she—she’d been right beside him when the lights went out. He forced his way through a band of third years and peered into the darkness. The sounds of screaming filled the air and the bright flares of curses being thrown temporarily lit his way. Where was she? His chest was heaving and the panic in the pit of his stomach built.

Then he caught a glimpse of her—she was throwing hexes like there was no tomorrow, but the Death Eater she was matched against deflected each and every one of them. He pulled his wand and a wave of horror swept through him when he heard a voice scream, “Febbre accecante!” Hermione crumpled under the curse, her legs giving out, and her cry of anguish echoing in his ears.

“No!”

The Death Eater turned at his cry and Ron stopped thinking. She was dead, he knew it, and someone was going to pay. Ron took off at a dead run and lowered his shoulders—he hit the enemy at full speed right in the stomach. His momentum landed him astride the prone body, and his hands fell to the mask hiding the person’s identity and he ripped it off to reveal Marcus Flint.

“Oh look, it’s the Weasel! I hope I killed the Mudblood.”

A wave of rage like Ron had never experienced before washed over him, blinding him to common sense. All he could hear was Hermione scream and he saw her fall to the ground over and over.

“What? No wand, Weasley?”

“Flint,” he growled as his hands closed around the other man’s throat, “I don’t need a wand to end you.”

His hands tightened around Flint’s throat—and through the flashing lights he could see Flint’s eyes bug out as he thrashed wildly underneath Ron. Tears poured down Ron’s cheeks and in between the flashes of rage he screamed, “You killed her! You bastard! You sick, twisted bastard!”

Flint clawed his hands up and down Ron’s arms, his fingers breaking the skin but Ron felt no pain. He felt dead inside and then suddenly Flint stopped struggling, his eyes flew open, and he twitched momentarily. Then a small trickle of blood streamed out of the corner of his mouth and he fell still. Ron sat there a moment, unable to fathom what he had just done in the name of revenge, and his body went cold.

He saw Hermione laying just a few feet away and struggled to his feet , fighting the urge to vomit, he made his way over to her. She was barely breathing and he reached his hand to touch her. She was burning up! Without another thought he picked her up and being carefully not to jostle her too much, headed for Hogwarts. He heard Harry calling his name but there wasn’t time to stop—her body temperature seemed to increase with every step. He barely noticed a curse that just missed him, singeing his hair. He just continued into the throng of running students, cradling Hermione to his chest the entire way.

He reached the castle doors and slid past a fourth year that had pulled them open. His eyes widened when he reached the main hallway—there were injured everywhere. He saw Lavender pressing a ripped piece of her robe to Pavarati’s face as he walked by. She called his name as he passed with Hermione but he ignored her and started up the stairs leading to the hospital wing two at a time. He broke into a light jog as Hermione shifted in his arms and he looked down at her. Her face was bright red and she was panting—she hadn’t opened her eyes and he at that moment, he would have given anything to hear her lecturing him.

“Hang on, Hermione,” he said softly, “Almost there, love.”

The journey to the hospital wing seemed to take hours and when he finally reached the swinging doors he kicked them open.

“Help, somebody please!”

He located an empty cot and searched the room frantically for Madam Pomfrey. She was tending to a very conscious Neville Longbottom and Ron rushed across the room to drag her away.

“You’ve got to come now!”

“Mr. Weasley, I have a patient here.” Madam Pomfrey huffed and planted her feet.

“No!” Ron yelled still tugging on her arm, “Hermione, she was hit by a curse and she’s burning up!”

Madam Pomfrey finally relented and when he pulled her to Hermione’s bedside she took one look and pushed against his chest.

“You, outside now!”

Ron barely noticed when Harry arrived and really wasn’t aware of his presence until he felt a hand squeeze his shoulder.

“I’m not leaving! You can’t make me leave!”

“Mr. Weasley, out now!” Madam Pomfrey waved her wand over Hermione and pushed past them, then broke into a jog as she turned to go to the potion cupboard.

“Come on, Madam Pomfrey will fix her up.” Harry said softly.

“I’m not leaving!”

Ron sat down on the side of the bed and brushed the sweaty fringe off Hermione’s forehead. This was his fault…he’d lost her in the crowd… he should have been there to protect her.

“Mr. Weasley, I told you to go!” Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, “Mr. Potter get him out of here.”

He shrugged Harry’s hand off his shoulder and continued to brush Hermione’s fringe. She was so hot under his fingertips and he could see beads of sweat breaking out all over her body. There were two bodies behind him now and he struggled against their weight as they pulled him away from Hermione.

“Let me go , you fuck!” Ron screamed and struggled as they pulled him backwards, “I’m staying with her! I love her! Damn it , let me go!”

In the distance he saw Hermione’s body shaking and her head fell back against the pillows. She was having a convulsion and he increased his struggles to get away.

“You fucker, let me go! She needs me!”

The room fell silent as his screams echoed through the room and then Harry’s voice rang out.

“Stupefy!”

He was propped up against the wall when Harry enervated him and he stared up to find Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey staring down at him.

“Mr. Weasley, you need to let me look at your arms,” Madam Pomfrey said. “But I expect you want to hear about Miss Granger.”

“How is she,” Harry asked the question before Ron could speak.

“She will recover, but I must warn you,” Madam Pomfrey replied, suddenly looking worried and she glanced at Ron. “Her fever went very high. I’m sure you saw the convulsion—I’m hopeful that as long as we keep her temperature down that there will be no permanent damage to her brain.”

Ron sucked in a huge quantity of air and he opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He rose off the floor and brushed passed the two ladies. He made his way to Hermione’s bedside and pulled a chair up beside it. He grasped her hand tightly and watched her breathe. Her skin was still hot to the touch and with his free hand he grabbed the washcloth out of basin sitting next to the bed. He rung the excess water from it and began trailing it across her exposed skin. They had changed her into a hospital gown and he was able to reach more of her than if she’d been wearing her pajamas. He gently bathed her face and felt her skin again. It was noticeably cooler and he almost sighed with relief.

“I’ll take care of you,” he said softly, lifting her hand to his lips to kiss the smooth skin on the back, “I won’t let you down again.”

He continued the ritual through the night, whenever her skin grew warm. He whispered words of encouragement to her and apologized over and over. He knew he was looking for an absolution and he felt the guilt from what he had done weighing heavily on him. Professor Dumbledore had sought him out shortly after midnight telling him there would be no action taken in the death of Marcus Flint—that the Ministry knew he had acted in self-defense. He hadn’t…deep inside he knew that…he’d killed him for revenge,pure and simple, and the guilt ate away at him.

His head began drooping just before dawn and he laid it down gently upon Hermione’s chest, letting the steady beating of her heart lull him to sleep. He awoke several hours later with her hand laced through his hair and looking up, he saw that she was sleeping peacefully. Her skin was cool to the touch and she began to stir—he couldn’t face her—couldn’t see the accusation in her eyes. He slipped from the room with a nod to Harry who was still slumped against the wall just outside the doors.

Hermione’s recovery time was unexpectedly short and she insisted that Professor McGonagall test her over and over to make sure that there was no brain damage from the curse. Ron went with Harry everyday to visit her, but found he couldn’t meet her eyes. She treated him no different, never seemed to hold him responsible for what happened to her, but he knew the truth—he’d failed her and in turn failed himself.

The weeks flew by after Hermione was released and things almost went back to normal. He’d gone to McGonagall asking if he could step down as head boy and she had flat out refused—told him to stop wallowing in guilt that he had no need to take on. It was easier said than done—the dark circles under Hermione’s eyes and the scratches on his arms were vivid reminders of what had happened that night.

The days grew colder and Ron found himself wandering the halls after everyone was in bed. He spent long hours trying to find comfort in anything. He missed Hermione desperately, but couldn’t be in a room alone with her. He found excuses to avoid her presence and she was starting to notice. Tonight, the silence between them had been deafening and he just wanted to be alone. He had tossed and turned fitfully before finally giving up to take a walk.

He was surprised to find himself outside the Room of Requirement—perhaps if he could just find something in that room that would allow him a short moment of piece, something that could slake the guilt and rage from him, and then maybe he could move on.

He opened the door and despite his best intentions couldn’t help but chuckle. It was the kitchen at the Burrow. He shut the door behind him and walked around the room marveling at the likeness , exact right down to the mirror poised next to the cabinets. He found a pitcher of pumpkin juice on the counter and poured a glass. It was then he caught his reflection in the mirror and wondered who the man was staring back at him. He looked old…with the dark circles under his eyes and his cheekbones were sunken in. His hand clenched around the glass and it shattered. The sound broke something free in him and all the suppressed rage and guilt hit boiling point. The china hutch in the corner was the first thing to go—Ron wrapped his hands around the back and toppled it forward smashing all the contents at once, the sound of breaking china echoed through the room and he moved on to the cabinets, smashing dishes and goblets. His hand was bleeding and the pain slicing through him was invigorating. He hadn’t felt anything in so long—it was like he was frozen and the pricks of pain thawed him.

“Ron!”

He turned to see Hermione standing in the doorway. She was wearing her dressing gown, slippers and over her shoulder was Harry’s invisibility cloak. She rushed across the room towards him and grabbed his wrist, she held his hand up so she could look at it and he flinched at her touch. He wrenched his hand away from hers, ignoring the darts of electricity that shot through him with her touch, and he looked away.

“Don’t touch me!”

She jumped back at the tone in his voice, before stepping forward again and taking his hand in hers.

“Honestly, stop being such a prat and let me heal your hand.”

She drew her wand and touched it to the cut on his hand. A soft purple glow came from the tip and the skin of his hand closed over. She kept hold of his hand and bent her head to study her handiwork.

“What did you think you were doing! Hurting yourself that way—well that’s just stupid!”

He tried to yank his hand away from her and watched as she waved her wand again to mend the broken glassware on the floor.

“I’m not in the mood for a lecture, Hermione,” he growled. “Now why don’t you just leave me the hell alone!”

“Don’t you curse at me, Ronald Weasley!” She exclaimed and Ron saw a flicker of anger flare in her eyes, “I’m not leaving here until you tell me what’s wrong. You’ve avoided me since I left the hospital wing. You won’t look at me and you run off every time I try to talk to you!”

A fresh wave of remorse rolled over Ron and he tried to bite back a harsh response. Her eyes were burning into him and he had the strangest feeling she could read his mind. The words fell from his lips before he could stop them and she would never know what it cost him to admit his failure to her.

“I’m a murderer and I failed you,” he snarled. “I killed that arsehole Flint and I liked it. I promised to protect you and I didn’t. I couldn’t save you. Do you really want to be friends with someone like me? Someone who enjoyed killing another human being? Do you want to be friends with someone who’s capable of murder?”

He looked down at the ground and felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. His breath was ragged and echoed in his ears. She stepped closer and squeezed his hand.

“You are not a murderer and you didn’t fail me.”

He ran a shaking hand through his hair and muttered, “I did fail you…you could have died or been brain damaged…and it was my fault…all my fault…”

She lifted his hand to her lips, and the back of his hand tingled from the contact. She stepped even closer to him so that their bodies were touching and Ron felt a shiver run up and down his spine.

“I knew you were there,” she said softly. “You never left my bedside…you took care of me.”

He blushed in spite of himself and couldn’t meet her eyes, he was afraid of what she would see in his…what he wouldn’t see in hers. He didn’t want her gratitude…or her pity…he just wanted her.

“Ron, is that why you stayed with me? Because you felt guilty?”

“No…” his voice cracked as he spoke and he cleared his throat and answered again, “No…”

She was so close now he could smell the vanilla in her shampoo and a whiff of jasmine perfume. His hands shook when she cupped his chin and forced his eyes to hers.

“Was it because we’re friends?”

There was a breathless quality to her voice that he’d never heard before and he wondered if he had caused it.

“No…” He whispered, searching her eyes, they seemed luminous in the dimly lit room, and he swallowed hard before continuing, “No…it’s because I love you, but I don’t deserve you. I’m a bad person.”

“Show me,” she said softly, “Show me you love me.”

She was guiding his hand down her neckline until it rested on the swell of her breast. His fingers trembled and his eyes widened in shock.

“W-what?”

“Honestly,” she said softly as she rose on her toes, and let her lips hover just under his. “Do I have to do everything?”

Her lips grazed his lightly, her breath teasing him, and his stomach filled with butterflies. Her breath was hot against his lips and little darts of pleasure shot directly to his crotch. Her mouth slid back and forth across his and the temptation was too great—his hand flexed around her breast and he slid his free hand into her hair and pressed his lips to hers. His tongue slid across her lips and he thought he might die if he she didn’t allow him to taste her. Her lips parted beneath his and their tongues brushed together. They moaned in unison as three years of pent up desire and love bubbled to the surface. He savored her mouth, darting his tongue to and fro, and she met him kiss for kiss. Her hands were sliding through his hair, her nails scrapping against his scalp, before trailing across his shoulders and down his back.

He felt the tremor that ran through her as his hand lowered and his thumb brushed back and forth across her nipple that hardened under his touch. She whimpered and dug her nails into his back as her hips jutted forward and pressed against his erection. He growled deep in his throat as he continued to savor her taste. He trailed his fingers through her hair, down her neck, and then across the swell of her other breast. He cupped both her breasts in his hands and then rolled her nipples between his thumb and forefinger. Their lips separated and their ragged breathing filled the room. He tried to regain control of his breathing and trailed his lips along her neck, loving the way her head fell backwards and she arched her back to push her breasts more firmly into his hands.

She moaned his name and slid her hands to the hem of his tee shirt, inching it upwards, and he released her momentarily to let her pull it over her head. When she finally freed him from his shirt she quickly undid her dressing gown and shrugged it off.

She bit her lip nervously, and he forced himself to breath past the lump in his throat. Her nightgown was green and he raked his gaze up and down her body. The candles that lit the room shimmered over the fabric of her gown and he’d never seen anything as amazing in his whole life. She seemed to be waiting for him to say something and he saw the blush that spread over her cheeks.

“You take my breath away…”

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the inside of her wrist. His hands shook as he kissed his way up her arm, his tongue darting out to trail upwards, and when he reached the strap of her gown he pulled it down to kiss the smooth skin of her shoulder.

Something broke free in Hermione and he caught a glimpse of fire in her eyes. She raised her hands to touch his chest, trailing her fingertips over his nipples, before stepping closer and planting a soft kiss to the center of his chest. Her lips and tongue were like fire as they traveled across his shoulders and suckled at the hollow of his throat. He threw back his head and groaned when her fingertips trailed over his stomach and pure lust flowed through his veins.

His hands worked the top of her nightgown down and he pushed at her shoulders so that he could concentrate on the image before her. Her brown curls spilled over her shoulders as she straightened and Ron felt his cock twitch in anticipation. He lifted her breasts with his palms, thumbs brushing over her, before lowering his head and enveloping her in his mouth. She cried out as he nibbled on one nipple and then darted his tongue out to circle the hard peak. Back and forth he continued and she thrust her hips forward to brush against his. Her hands entwined in his hair and she finally drew his lips up to hers and claimed his lips.

He lifted her and sat her down on the edge of the table, never breaking contact with her lips, and he slid her gown the rest of the way off. His tongue plundered and tasted—the aching in his cock grew almost unbearable as she slid her legs around his waist and pulled him to her. He was pressed against her center and he involuntarily thrust hard against her. He swallowed her moan and let her capture his as their hips moved together instinctually.

“Ron…please…I need…” She whispered breaking away from him.

“Show me what you need…” He whispered back, “Show me, Hermione…”

She entwined her hand with his and laid it directly on her knickers. He could feel the dampness that had pooled there and held his breath. His free hand pulled them down her legs as she kissed him again, dropping them on the floor, and she placed her hand on top of his guiding his fingers through her folds.

“Like this?”

“Yes, just there,” she panted, her voice full of desire.

He traced a finger over her clit and she cried out loudly and thrust her hips up to meet his hand. He bent his head and tugged her nipple between his teeth as he caressed her. She was moaning his name and the sound was driving him crazy. He boldly thrust a finger inside of her, pushing in and out, and he lifted his head to watch her response.

“You’re so wet…for me…only for me…”

“Yes, just for you…only for you…only you ever…”

Hermione’s body was shaking and she shuddered when he pressed his thumb hard against her. Her head fell back and she called out his name and he felt her tighten around his fingers.

His cock was aching and suddenly she sat up and cupped it in her hands. She traced its outline through his pajama bottoms before pushing them down his hips. He quickly kicked them off and she was holding him in her bare hands. She stroked his length firmly, thumb sliding over the tip with each upwards stroke, and he could feel the tightness in his stomach increase with each caress.

“Hermione…I…need…” He grunted as her hand slid down to cup his sac, “Inside… please…Merlin…”

He was beyond rational thought; and he rapidly lost the ability to think. The only thing in his mind was driving into her until they were both too weak to stand… until the ache stopped… until he felt whole again. She must have heard the desperation in his voice because her legs came around his waist and she guided him to her entrance.

“I love you, Ron…” She whispered just as he thrust inside her.

Her eyes widened with the shock of pain and he almost stopped. He held himself completely still and panted above her. Then her hips wiggled against his and she nodded. H e pulled out slightly before burying himself inside her again. They moved in unison, instinct making up for lack of experience, and he braced himself by placing his palms on either side of her head.

He kissed her desperately and then lifted his head back to draw a breath. Their eyes locked and it was as though their souls were merging. He felt her legs tighten around his hips and her breathless moaning spurred him further.

His hand slid across her body, over the smooth plain of her stomach, and then found the spot just above where they were joined. His eyes never left hers as he touched her and her arms slid upwards, her hands curling around the edge of the table, and then with a loud moan she nearly sent him over the edge.

“Harder…please…harder…”

He complied and drove into her. Withdrawing completely then burying himself as deeply as he could. His thrusts were causing her breasts to jiggle and she tossed her head back and forth.

“Merlin…fuck…you feel amazing…”

Ron closed his eyes for a moment and felt his impending release approaching. Suddenly her entire body bowed and she cried out his name. He felt her tightening around him and the pressure was too much. He buried his head in the crook of her neck, as his release spilled over him and he whispered her name over and over again.

They lay there together, trying to come back to their senses, and her hands fluttered along his back. He lifted his head to look at her and felt tears pricking his eyes again.

“You love me?” He whispered, not believing she’d said it, “You love me?”

“Honestly, I dropped enough hints—five years of hint dropping and all I had to do was kiss you to make you believe it.”

They pulled apart and put their clothes back on, stopping every few minutes to kiss each other softly, and Ron was amazed by the ease in which they reacted to each other.

“Ron,” Hermione whispered and clutched his hands, “Don’t ever say that you don’t deserve my love.”

“You don’t think I’m a bad person?”

“Ron, you are the most loyal person I know—you’re brave, you're smart, and you would willingly give your life for Harry and I.”

She stood up on tiptoe and kissed the corner of his mouth, “I love you.”

They walked back to the common room and once they were safely inside, he grinned at her, it was the first time he had really smiled in weeks.

“I don’t want you to go, can you sit with me for a bit?”

She shrugged her shoulders and smiled mischievously, “Why not, I’m feeling a bit rebellious tonight!”

They sat down on the couch and he pulled her snug against him. Then it dawned on him that she had Harry’s invisibility cloak.

“You nicked the cloak!”

She laughed softly and it had a rather frightening ring to it, “I told you I was feeling rebellious.”

“You know, Hermione,” he said and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “You’re scary sometimes, brilliant, but scary.”


End file.
